Solace
by Scordatura
Summary: Not once did he expect his worries to be eased by a boy once thought heartless or an answer so simple.


_A/N: This story is so, so old. It was one of the first Soul Eater stories I ever thought up, and it has been changed three times over the course of many years. I am so happy to finally have it posted, and I hope you all enjoy it, too._

 _-/-\\-|-/-\\-_

There were times he'd wondered if he was falling slowly through endless darkness. Whenever he was locked in that dark room, cut off from the life around him, separated from Medusa, and trapped within the hell inside his head, he always wondered. It wasn't until he stopped caring for the life around him and started listening to Medusa that he realized he had fallen. He had fallen to the madness, had been defeated by the insanity that soon dug its horrific claws into his mind. He had fallen into the darkness and there had been no rope to pull himself out nor any reason to make such an attempt. There had only been the darkness.

Crona frowns at the recollection as he wanders down the halls of Death Weapon Meister Academy. Maka and Black Star are a few steps ahead of him, bickering about something unknown. He thinks Black Star is ranting on about the idea of the apocalypse and how they would survive. Maka is trying to be rational, but Black Star is hellbent on the decision of cockroaches being their main food source.

As Maka raises another issue with Black Star's reasoning, Crona can't help but smile. Maka was the rope that had pulled him from the darkness. She had been the one to give Crona a chance, to stop and listen to the soulful cries that sang forth from the black. For that, Crona owed her so much—owed them all so much.

Admittedly, Crona can't say he knows all of them too well. He hasn't spent much time away from Mr. Corner, but Maka has slowly been edging him out of his usual comfort zone and more into the lives of everyone else. He knows the one with the sharp teeth is Soul, Maka's partner. He was the one who Ragnarok had infected, and although he feels pangs of guilt every so often, Crona can't muster the courage to apologize just yet.

When he suddenly realizes both Black Star and Maka are staring at him expectantly, Crona lets out a tiny squeak. They'd taken a break in the conversation to ask his opinion, hadn't they? What had they been talking about?

Hesitantly, Crona nods in agreement to whatever debate the two were having, and Maka produces a triumphant smile and tells Black Star, "See? I told you!"

Crona feels a wave of relief at having chosen the, as it would appear, correct side, and tries not to giggle at Black Star's indignation. The assassin was someone with whom Crona had grown more familiar. His loud mouth and unordinary hair made him a spectacle one would have trouble forgetting. As for his partner, Crona couldn't quite remember her name but knew Ragnarok really liked her. The sweet girl had a tendency to give the black blood candy, so Ragnarok was careful never to speak ill of her for that reason.

"Crona will probably be fine during the apocalypse, though."

Black Star is speaking again, and upon hearing his name, Crona has no choice but to focus on what is being said.

"After all, with Ragnarok always healing him and all that, isn't he basically immortal?"

Bitter.

The taste on his tongue is suddenly bitter, and Crona feels a deep pressure in his gut. He wants to stop listening, but his mind refuses to shut out Black Star's words.

"Hey, it's pretty likely he'll outlive all of us, right?"

A cold feeling creeps into his soul, so icy he's positive Ragnorak can feel it. The assassin's inquiries echo in his mind, bouncing around painfully and returning for him to register. It translates to one thing: Not being able to die will only result in him being alone for a long, long time.

Because of Ragnorak, his blood runs smoother and heart beats stronger. Any damage done to him is treated almost instantly, leaving him wondering if he can receive fatal injuries without much trouble. He's been placed in tough situations before, ones where he's felt great distress, but yet here he stands, alive and well.

Alive and well and terrified.

He will live while his friends die around him. Pretty soon, all of Death City may even be gone, and he'll be all alone, left with only his blood for company.

Just like that dark room.

He takes a step backward and Maka immediately goes serious, asking what's wrong. It only takes a few seconds before the scythe meister pieces it together and starts insisting everything will be alright, to not worry about what Black Star said, and that the assassin is just an idiot with a big mouth.

But it's too late. Black Star has given him a piece of knowledge he could have easily lived without, and now that monstrous fact is poisoning every other thought in his brain: He's going to be alone some day.

He doesn't remember running, only Maka's startled cry, followed by Black Star's stumble of words. He tears down the hallway, through the groups of students who stare in bewilderment, and passes Professor Stein whose eyes narrow behind glass lenses.

Crona doesn't want to be alone again. He doesn't want to lose everything he found after leaving Medusa. He wants the happy life with his friends to continue forever.

 _It can't continue forever, dummy._

The voice may be Ragnarok's, but it seems more likely that it belongs to himself. After all, even the voice in his head has taken on Ragnarok's scathing tone. Crona has been trying to make it more positive, but he knows it's not working.

 _Say goodbye to your sweet delusions of believing this could go on forever. In the end, you'll always return to that dark room._

 _-/-\\-|-/-\\-_

It's Maka who finds him in Mr. Corner. It was the first place he could think of while he fled both scythe meister and assassin. However, the angle he's seated in that he'd once deemed comforting is now icy and cramped. It doesn't provide the same feeling of safety, but he gives it a shot anyway. He already sees the irony in abandoning his friends to be alone despite his fear of always ending up in this scenario. Perhaps he's trying to prepare himself. That seems likely.

Maka doesn't say anything when she kneels down in front of him. She doesn't ask Crona if he's okay or if there is anything she can do to help. She simply sits with him, filling the area with her presence and, thankfully, putting him at ease for just a moment.

Crona isn't sure how long they sit there, but he finally raises his tear-filled eyes to the friend across from him. Maka gives him a very soft smile, one of kindness and empathy.

"I'm sorry, Crona," the scythe meister murmurs. "You know how Black Star is, and I didn't even think about his words. He is sorry, though. He would have come here to apologize, but I told him to wait for a little while, okay?"

He inclines his head to show he understands, but he doesn't speak. Maka means well, she always does, but she can't possibly understand, can she? She had a kind mother growing up, and now she has a doting father who fusses over his baby girl relentlessly. Was she ever locked in a dark room, abused by a creature living inside her, and mentally tormented? Has she ever witnessed the true hell that can be in someone's mind?

No.

Crona closes his eyes and swallows an icy lump in his throat. She can't understand the true fear of being left alone in the world.

Maka lets out a quiet sigh, and for a moment, Crona is sure she is going to leave. However, she only reaches out a hand and places it on his own.

"Crona, listen to me." Her voice is quiet but commanding. "I want you to go talk to Kid. I think... I think he can help."

Crona raises his head, searching Maka's green eyes for some kind of explanation. At first, he doesn't understand. The one named Kid, the boy with the black and white hair? He is the one with the gold eyes, isn't he? He'd met the meister on the ship and had realized—

Maka nods when Crona realizes what she's hinting at. There is another brief smile before she rises to her feet, extending a hand to help him up. He's hesitant, but he does eventually take hold of her fingers.

Crona had known when he'd first laid eyes on him. That boy on the Nidhogg had been a shinigami. Even now, he can hear Lady Medusa's voice, her quiet words from when he was younger when she would hand Crona book after book. 'Don't let talk of Lord Death fool you,' she would say, her eyes growing even colder. 'Do not trust shinigami, Crona. Do not trust their words, intentions, or puppet smiles. Only one thing reveals the truth about their kind, Crona, and that is their eyes.'

And Crona had seen that, staring down upon Nidhogg's deck and the child preparing to fight. His words were serious and he'd hurt the sword wielder numerous times during the attack. It was then he'd decided, after being thrown into the depths of the ship, that Medusa had been right. It was best stay away from shinigami.

-/-\\-|-/-\\-

He's never much cared for the Death Room mainly due to the guillotine hallway. He's only walked down it once or twice, but each time he feels like a guilty soul on trial. Each blade looms over his head, a menacing end to his pitiful existence, and although he tries not to look, his nervous eyes always return to the sharp edges keen on bringing him down.

"I still don't know why you're doing this," Ragnarok's irritated voice rises up before the black blood seeps from Crona's back and positions himself on his meister's head. "We decided awhile ago that this guy is bad news, didn't we? Didn't you ever listen to a single word Lady Medusa said? Crona, you dummy, are you even listening?"

He's not listening, not really. He's too busy thinking about every footfall that brings him closer to the shinigami he should despise but does not. He isn't sure when it changed. During some of his first days in the Academy while sitting in Mr. Corner, he'd had a few people visit. The blue-skinned man had tried coaxing him from his hiding place, but to no avail. Maka had led him around the Academy along with the pretty woman, Miss Marie. He'd also interacted a little with Black Star and Soul that day but not for long.

Crona lets out a low breath as the end of the hallway comes into view, and he can see the rest of the Death Room stretching out before him. Where the center of the room rises up, he can see Death is absent, but a golden throne and large mirror remains. He can see the young shinigami in the reflection, seated in the chair with a cold gaze fixated on the glass.

It hadn't been long before the shinigami had come to visit Crona in his room, as well. He'd done so to be polite and had smiled pleasantly, but Crona hadn't been sure what to make of it. Words from old books come back to him whenever he sees the shinigami or his overly cheerful father.

As Crona steps forward, the figure in the chair shifts, and soon Kid is stepping around the throne to greet the black blooded meister. He isn't showing much emotion, but that doesn't make his features unkind. He appears puzzled by Crona's tentative approach, yet he doesn't speak.

Willing himself to forget everything he has read, Crona walks up the steps, hesitant and shaking, while running the question through his brain. The question renders all other worries pointless, and he attempts to disregard the concern that any reassurances he shall receive will be a lie. His mother's endless words echo through his mind, the one's that label all shinigami as liars, but he can't focus on that now. He can't bring himself to worry about this boy's words when that dark room clouds his thoughts with a sickening fear.

"Crona?" Kid inquires, a touch of curiosity in his voice. "What brings you here? It is nice to see you out of your room, but I expected Maka to be with you."

"Sh-She was," Crona stumbles, eyes darting every which way and refusing to land on the other boy. "B-But her and Black Star—I mean, I wasn't... I..."

He can't get a single phrase out and it's absolutely maddening. Even Ragnarok has abandoned him, having sunk back into his shoulders with a single, "Wuss," before they'd even seen the shinigami.

"What I want to ask... I mean I want to ask you something," the meister finally explains, swallowing and finding his throat dry. "You...You're a shinigami."

The corner of Kid's mouth twitches into a hint of a smile before disappearing and he inclines his head with a simple, "Yes."

Crona's heart is pressing itself against his ribcage, persistently trying to escape the confines of his chest. With dark cheeks, the pink-haired meister mumbles, "Shinigami live a long time. Lady Medusa would often have me read stories about shinigami, so I've learned-"

 _You're dark and you lie and you don't care and I've made a mistake._

"—that your lifespan is longer than a normal human. Shinigami have seen the deaths of many generations, and some books say they avoid company because they don't want to be hurt by so many losses. Other books say that's false because shinigami have no emotions from the start."

When he looks up, Kid's eyes have narrowed somewhat, and the meister can't determine if the other student is angry or not. Regardless, Crona begins to sputter frantic apologies, bowing low and praying he can just sink into the floor and melt away.

"I've heard books say that," Kid responds calmly, raising his shoulders in a brief shrug. "I've even read them, though I have never classified myself as one of those individuals as I care for all of my friends. What do you think?"

Crona flinches at the sudden inquiry and begins lacing his fingers together, back and forth, processing the question. He can't tell him the truth. He doesn't know what will happen if he does.

"I'm sorry, I can't... I don't think I can deal with that question," he answers, quickly shaking his head.

"I don't mind," Kid explains, revealing another careful smile before he tilts his head. "You had a question for me, didn't you?"

"Y-Yes!" Crona snaps upright, but he realizes the question has run away from him. Kid's own query had caught him off guard, so now he can't remember why he'd come to visit him in the first place. _What was it? Why am I here? Why am I talking to a shinigami right now?_

"Crona?" Kid murmurs, leaning forward expectantly. "Are you alri—?"

"What will you do when they're gone?"

The question is delivered as a sudden outburst, one that even takes Crona off guard, and he's following up with more apologies as Kid raises a confused eyebrow. When it appears the single sentence won't be enough, Crona begins more slowly.

"I... I just wanted to know what you will do when Maka and the others are gone. You're going to live for a long time, and you'll still be alive when they are gone. You..." Crona trails off and closes his eyes. "You might live longer than so many things and be the only one left in Death City some day."

The shinigami appears to consider the observation and takes a moment before responding. "That possibility has crossed my mind."

"It has?" Crona echoes in bewilderment. "Then aren't you afraid? Aren't you afraid of being alone?"

His answer is simple.

"No." Kid shakes his head. "You see, I'm not going to be alone. That is, unless, you don't plan on sticking around?"

The question catches Crona off guard, just as the first did, and he feels something prick the backs of his eyes. The muscles in his legs go numb, and he wavers precariously before righting himself, unsure of what to say. Before he can even stop himself, he's sobbing like a small child. He can't hold back the tears, and they descend down his face, one after the other in an endless cascade.

The shinigami watches, not saying anymore, but he isn't angered by the uncontrollable weeping. Instead, he offers a comforting silence, one that Crona didn't think his kind possessed. Actually, he didn't think Kid could say anything that would affect him this much, but now he sees how wrong he was to be skeptical. He begins to consider that maybe Lady Medusa was wrong. Maybe the authors of all those books didn't truly know reapers and Kid really is different from the rest, just as a few students of the Academy have mentioned. After all, Crona doesn't think Maka and the others would remain friends with someone as heartless as the books describe, but he had always thought the shinigami was enacting a role that fooled just about everyone.

But perhaps it isn't an act. With that single answer to Crona's question, the shinigami has changed before the meister's tearful eyes, and now he can't think of anything to say. What does he say to the person who doesn't fear being alone because he believes he never will be? How can he react to such a simple message, the shortest of reassurances he has ever received? He hadn't been prepared for the immediate solace, and had suspected he would need some convincing, but that wasn't the case. For the first time since Black Star brought up the notion of him being alone, Crona is without fear.

There is only one thing he can say to that.

"No," Crona whispers, pressing his palms to either eye in an attempt to smother the tears.

Kid's mouth twists into a bewildered frown, and he softly inquires, "No?"

Crona shakes his head. "No. You aren't emotionless like the books say. I don't think so, not anymore."

A brief chuckle escapes the shinigami, and he reaches out a gentle hand to place it on Crona's trembling shoulder. "Good. I'm glad you changed your mind."

-/-\\-|-/-\\-

He's back in Mr. Corner now. Maka hasn't come to visit yet, but Crona is sure she will. She'll want to make sure he's doing better, after all. She's kind and considerate that way.

Crona pulls his pillow closer to his chest, closing his eyes in contentment and burying his face in the soft material. He won't be alone. He won't be alone. Kid has told him so, and he trusts the grim reaper. It may be foolish, but he can't help it.

Slowly, Crona raises his eyes to the ceiling and blinks as another thought strikes him. Kid had admitted to thinking about the future, and he'd answered Crona's inquiry in an instant. What were the chances the young shinigami had pulled that answer straight off the tip of his tongue? Maybe it had been the first into his mind, so he'd shared it? But maybe that wasn't it. Perhaps he had acquired that answer long ago when Crona first joined the Academy.

The pink-haired meister frowns thoughtfully while his mind tosses around the hunch that is forming. Perhaps Kid's words weren't entirely for Crona's worries alone, but for his own, as well? Did he fret just as Crona had? Did he grow anxious at the thought of his friends passing away, one after the other, while citizens of Death City followed until only he, Lord Death, remained? Did he allow himself to be bothered by the very thought of being alone?

"They are wrong," Crona murmurs softly. "Every one of Medusa's books. Reapers can show emotion and worry and look out for their friends." The meister's lips curl into a tentative smile. _And even if I'm wrong and they are truly as heartless as the books say, at least I'll be left with the one who proves the stories wrong._

-/-\\-|-/-\\-

 _A/N: I hope you all enjoyed. Let me know what you think, maybe favorite the story, or go check out some of my others if you haven't already. Thanks for reading._


End file.
